


Affections

by Aris Merquoni (ArisTGD)



Series: Affections [1]
Category: Doctor Who
Genre: M/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-28
Updated: 2007-01-28
Packaged: 2017-10-07 01:05:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArisTGD/pseuds/Aris%20Merquoni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A 5th Doctor/Brigadier story wedged into Mawdryn Undead where no such scene could possibly take place. The Doctor isn't going to be able to stick around this time, but it's well past the time he and the Brigadier had a heart-to-heart-and-heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Affections

The Brigadier finished his story as efficiently as possible. The Doctor mused for a moment, then said, "What worries me is the level of coincidence in all this. Almost as if some cosmic influence--still. That won't get me the TARDIS back. Now, Brigadier. We've got to establish the precise time all this happened." He perched on the armrest of the sofa and grinned.

"Well, that's a pretty tall order, Doctor."

"Oh, don't worry. Just relax. Think yourself back."

The images came back to him like a dream. He was immersed in them, completely taken over. It wasn't much like remembering at all--it was like replaying his life on magnetic tape, unable to move or think any differently than he had, then, confidently issuing orders, explaining to Miss Jovanka about the Jubilee, striding along the path, the crunch of gravel under his feet--but always beside him the Doctor, his mental presence like the smell of a warm cup of tea.

"June the Seventh, Nineteen Seventy-Seven. Well done, Brigadier!"

It took him a moment to shake himself out of the fog, and the Doctor had already bounded to his feet. The Brigadier watched the younger man skip toward the door, then freeze, turn around, frowning. "Is something wrong?"

"It's just all very strange," he said, standing slowly. "Oh, it's nonsense, I'm just getting too old for this sort of thing." He couldn't help smirking. "And you just seem to be getting younger and younger."

The Doctor nodded, slowly. "Ah."

He had to say something, to get the man to stop staring at him. "UNIT didn't do as well without a scientific adviser," was what came out.

"Ah," the Doctor said again. He took a couple steps back inside, clasped his hands in front of him. "I did rather just... leave."

"Yes, well." All of a sudden, the thought of playing these stupid games of meaning and too-much-meaning was embarrassing. "We've got to get your TARDIS back. That's more important than--"

"Alistair." He could swear he hadn't looked away long enough for the Doctor to get that close to him. "I'm worried about my friends, yes. All of them. And I'm afraid I've treated you rather poorly." He frowned and shook his head, looking genuinely saddened. "I was so entranced with the TARDIS, with space and time, with Romana--"

"Who's Romana?" Alistair asked suspiciously.

"Hm? Oh. She was a Time Lord. Back on Gallifrey, now. Waste of a good mind. Anyway." He smiled. "I should have dropped by to say hello long before now." He gave Alistair's jacket lapels a slight tug.

He coughed. "Come now, Doctor. You look as young as one of my students."

"Oh, really?" The Doctor's grin had never been quite that mischievous before, had it? He would have noticed. "Maybe I should just nip over and borrow Turlough's jacket and tie. Would you like that? You could whack my hand with a ruler."

That just about tore it. He grabbed the Doctor's hips and roughly shoved him against his desk. The Doctor chuckled, wrapped his arms around Alistair's neck, and used him as leverage to sit up on the desk, wriggling around and pressing his face into Alistair's neck.

"Mmmm," the Doctor said, "this is more like it."

"You didn't use to be so... fidgety."

"And you didn't use to like keeping the lights on," the Doctor said before kissing him.

It was _different_\--there had been too much time, and he'd never been much for this sort of emotional display, and--but at the same time, it was still the Doctor, still the enigma, the same taste of sweat and saliva not quite of this earth.

He pulled away first. The Doctor opened his eyes and looked sadly at him. "I am sorry for leaving. Truly, I am."

"Well." He sighed. "I knew we couldn't always be first in each other's affections. You are a Time Lord, after all. And..." he trailed off.

"Oh, Alistair," the Doctor whispered, then tugged him closer and murmured something into his ear.

It was long, liquid, nothing like English--he let the syllables roll over his hearing, felt as they seared themselves into his memory. He wouldn't be able to pronounce half of it, he feared, but--

The Doctor's smile was shy, this time, when he pulled back. Alistair mulled over the thing now sitting in his memory, fragile and warm, almost alive in his mind. "What was that?"

"My name." The same shy smile, and a half-shrug. "I... well, I haven't used it--haven't spoken it, really, since I left Gallifrey."

Oh.

Well.

He was aware his mouth was hanging open, closed it, swallowed. "Oh, my dear... Doctor," he said, unable to chance even one of those alien sounds coming out straight.

"I may not be able to come back again for some time, once this is over," the Doctor said, his eyes terribly old in so young a face. "And we may not get any more time like this... but I hope you'll always know you stand eternally high in my affections."

Eternally. High praise from a Time Lord. This time, he didn't pull away from the embrace until the blasted phone rang.


End file.
